The Matador

Information about this story:

A presentation of the research institute "Andishe Online Germany (AOG)".

Excerpt from the book "The Miracle of Guadalupe"

Author: Faramarz Tabesh

Date of completion/publication of the original Persian version: Winter 2005/December 31, 2019

Publication date of the English version: May 01, 2024

The following text was translated by Faramarz Tabesh.

The Matador

First scene

Eros [1] flew over Madrid as Zeus had commanded him. After patrolling the city and roaming its corners, he landed on a hill, slowly and carefully selected three arrows from a unique quiver he carried on his back, and shot them one after the other with his bow. All three arrows had golden tips. Although the arrows were fired with a delay, all three flew in parallel in the same direction as if they knew their task, their path, and their destination exactly. Therefore, they divided the space as much as possible and moved forward with impressive seriousness.

Second scene

A bit further east, almost on the city's edge, stood a thin boy in a short-sleeved shirt and knee-length matador pants. He was directly behind part of the bullring, the wall of wooden planks set vertically into the ground. This place was used for playing or rather for passing the time.

Five years earlier, he had lost his father in a bullfight in this arena. But these ominous memories and the arena's eerie character did not make the boy hate it. On the contrary, he has been drawn there almost daily since that day. It is as if this boy saw his final destiny linked to this field by an unknown and unwritten contract and, perhaps subconsciously, thought that meeting his father in this place was inevitable.

Third scene

Carlos got up when the alarm clock rang and sat on the edge of the bed. His mouth felt bitter because he had drunk too much last night, but his severe headache was soothed by the sweet dream he had had. He had seen himself in the bullring, but it was deserted. Only an older man with almost dark, wrinkled skin, wearing the matador costume, his hands on his chest, was looking at him and smiling kindly.

The older man was standing at the end of one of the aisles where the spectators were. With his penetrating eyes, he had established a deep and loving connection with the young Matador, which was positively affecting this young man's insubstantial existence at every moment.

Suddenly, in the middle of the field before him, the Matador saw a golden bull racing towards him at breakneck speed. But this time, the young Matador sensed a surprising affection in the bull's eyes instead of anger. That's why he didn't touch the red cloth, and he didn't move either. It was as if he was waiting for the bull's arrival at any moment, and at every moment, this expectation turned into a strange and incredible desire that the Matador had never felt before. The stronger the young man's willingness to face the bull grew, the more time stretched and the more the room curved. Then, the young man turned his head momentarily and looked at the older man, whom he perceived as his father. The father he had never seen in the real world, and this great emptiness had become the most significant complex [2] of his life, and he was carrying it like a heavy psychological burden for many years of his life.

The Matador turned to the bull. Now, the creature he had been fighting for the last few years of his life was gradually transforming not only into a friend but also into a savior whose nature he did not know.

Suddenly, it seemed to the young Matador as if the bull had stepped out of its form and become entirely luminous. The Matador dared, took a step forward, and touched the bull, which was now pure light, and at that moment, he suddenly realized that this place was curving more and turning into tangled and rotating circles—something like a cave opening or a rotating tunnel entrance. Shortly afterward, the bull and the Matador merged. Then, the young man saw himself in this tunnel at the side of an older man who now confidently regarded him as his father. It was an unusual and pleasant encounter. Fearless, cheerful, in deep peace.

The young man got up from the edge of the bed, went to the tap, and drank a few sips of water by mouth. After that, his headache subsided somewhat, and he remembered that he had to be at the bullring in an hour to give another disgusting performance.

The young Matador initially had chosen this job because he wanted to fight. It was as if the spear he kept thrusting into the bull's body was the same spear he had repeatedly thrust with all his might into the face of his unpleasant fate in his dreams. For the same reason, he has shown a great desire to learn this art, if it can be called an art at all, since childhood.

Psychologically, this was his way of suppressing his Scream of inner anger by injuring a dumber bull with a spear, thus releasing some of his pent-up rages.

Carlos was a typical example of people living alone and spending their time hoping to find what they have lost—people captured by their senses. This is an apparent psychological example of an inner Protest caused by the lack of satisfaction of emotional desires, longings, and cravings. Such a person is nothing more than a lost person in the earthly world who does not know who he is, why this has happened to him, and what will happen at the end of this journey.

Carlos had been satisfying himself with excessive alcohol consumption for a long time. Although the pain of fatherlessness tormented him, he had, profound in his being, another reason to drink.

In addition to this lack, many other unfulfilled needs tormented him in the dark, cobwebbed corners of his mind without him knowing it.

No, Carlos' alcoholism was perhaps a reason for not receiving a response to an inner longing to realize something unknown—a longing to find what the philosophers call the truth of life, the great Persian mystics call the source of all being, and the Indian sadhus call the only secret.

When this man was still a teenager before he lost his mother, he went to church with her every week to listen to the priest's sermon. Although the priest's words were a little different from those of his predecessors, as he spoke above all of the unconditional love of the merciful Christ, there was still something that Carlos had never understood. Namely, this priest's understanding of the content and fundamentals of Christianity. And it was nothing but setting a condition for this unconditional love!

The priest believed that the love of Christ was only available to those who converted or will be converted to Christianity. This assertion violates the principle of its unconditionality and universality.

After his mother's death, Carlos lost the habit of going to church and listening to the priest's sermon because he could not reconcile his successive sufferings in life with the meaning of Christ's unconditional love and affection.

Fourth scene

The three arrows released from Eros' bow, side by side, were advancing towards an unknown destination with the speed of lightning. It was as if they were competing in a race of destiny to fulfill their mission as quickly and precisely as possible. However, an invisible force gave all three of them no chance in their quest for superiority.

Fifth scene

Maria was a depressed forty-year-old woman. Her dark black hair, which she usually wore tied behind her head, and her long, one-piece, not entirely new but clean and dignified black dress with the crimson lace on her bony shoulders made her a clear example of a relatively old and classic Spanish woman.

Her solid and deep cough was shaking her slender body so much that she often bled from the throat. This problem was the sign of a deadly disease that this middle-aged woman was suffering from.

Maria worked as a seamstress on the second floor of a passage in the poor district of Madrid and struggled through life with her only child and her elderly and disabled mother. This woman struggled most of the time with various terrible thoughts. Apparently, she was one of those who had gotten to know life from its bitter, unpleasant, and dark side. This woman could be seen as a character who lived at the wrong time, with the wrong people, in unbalanced relationships, with an inappropriate identity, and in an irrelevant area.

Maria was also dissatisfied with her gender most of the time. She was a clear example of a machine person or a humanoid machine—a being who only laughed when nervousness crossed the red line. The reality that she had been born into a rural family with a violent father forced Maria all the time to obey his orders unquestioningly until her marriage. Then, at her father's request, she married a less violent but irresponsible man who was unable to fulfill even her most basic feminine desires.

After her husband's death, she worked as a seamstress all those years. For Maria, the boundaries between childhood, youth, and old age were utterly blurred. Fate had drawn a black line in her life, the direction of which was determined by the other figures with indescribable force. This interference of others in her life made her a ghostly creature whose only support was weak faith, like a candle with a dim light.

Maria sewed and sewed and struggled with her distant thoughts. Lately, it seemed as if she could no longer live without these thoughts. These vile and morbid thoughts had popped into her head, and like little white worms that multiply rapidly at the right temperature, they had invaded every corner of her mind and conquered all her thoughts. But in response to this tremendous mental disturbance, a voice promised her peace and tranquillity, and Maria believed this voice to be the voice of the merciful Christ, who promised her a better time.

The bitter events of life had taught the woman to remember the priest's preachings in the most challenging moments. Despite his bad reputation, the priest had a gentle and compelling tone. Of course, this gentleness in his speech had to do with the effect of the words themselves and not with the priest's personality and identity.

Remembering Christ's words was like pouring water on the inner fire that had been kindled by the successive failures of his present life and perhaps some previous lives.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

...

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. ..."

However, such quotations could only soothe the pain temporarily, not heal it.

Sixth scene

The boy and his friends of the same age, and perhaps also older people who were unable to buy tickets and enter the bullring because of their poverty, had drilled some small and large holes in the wooden wall of the bullring and were watching the inside of the bullring through these holes. They were waiting for the bullfight to begin. It was an almost daily pleasure for the boy.

For some years now, he had become accustomed to no longer spending the hours before the start of the bullfight in fear and anxiety. But today, from the morning until this hour, he had a special feeling. He was feeling a strange sensation in his heart. It was like falling from the highest point of a roller coaster in an amusement park or jumping from a high mountain into a blue sea surrounded by beautiful flowers on fresh grass. He had once experienced the first state at a funfair, the second in a dream.

In any case, the youngster wasn't worried today. He waited for the game to start and occasionally showed impatience by peering through one of the holes in the wooden wall.

There was a wave of energy in the air in the city today, or at least around this pitch. Something was developing and completing. Something like the blossoming of a bud in the glorious dawn of a summer's day or the hatching of a beautiful butterfly from its cocoon. A kind of liberation or simplicity, a connection with an unknown and unfamiliar force. It was something that the eager boy was feeling without being able to analyze it, and although this state caused him a feeling of disgust, he gradually got used to it by following an inner habit.

Calm, composed, self-confident.

Seventh scene

Carlos, the young Matador, reluctantly wore his unique costume and donned his hat. He looked at himself in a vertical mirror but didn't like what he saw. It was as if he was looking at a stranger in the mirror.

"Who is that? Carlos, or only a moving body? Am I trapped in this body, or is it captured in me? Who am I? What is this "me"?"

After a few minutes, the young man interrupted what he considered philosophical thoughts. Suddenly, with a determination he had rarely seen in himself recently, he felt ready to fight this silent but stubborn, cruel, and aggressive animal and ran toward the field.

The fighting bull is an animal that not only stubbornly evades the ominous clutches of death but also attacks its opponent, driving him mad and sometimes even freeing him from his body's restraints.

"Is death terrible? Doesn't the bull have the right to defend himself? Am I right, or is he right? Oh, if this animal kills me, shouldn't I consider it my friend for freeing me from this corpse?"

The Matador sighed and thought:

"My God, philosophical nonsense!"

Carlos saved his mind from the relentless blows of such thoughts with these words and concentrated on his task. With this decision, he seemed to have achieved the desired coordination of body and mind. So, he hurried quickly to the bullring, which was only a few minutes away.

Eighth scene

While Maria wiped the bloody secretions that had flowed from her lungs during a violent cough from her mouth with a handkerchief, she was suddenly overcome by a strange feeling. A wonderful feeling that she could neither analyze nor describe.

She felt like she would collapse from heat and thirst in an endless desert, and this feeling of despair and helplessness had blocked her psyche's window to optimism. But simultaneously, another vision came over her, showing her a different scene.

Suddenly, not too far away, she saw a lake full of water and trees with colorful flowers next to it. A breeze was blowing from this pond, reviving her thirsty soul. Along with this feeling, Maria felt a strange depression that contrasted with the first feelings. This fear was intense enough to move her.

Under the influence of an iron instinct, Maria stopped working and rushed into the alley, seemingly without knowing where she was going.

The cough caused by tuberculosis shook her lean, bony body once again. It is as if her soul is beating against the body wall from the inside, screaming for freedom.

Bloody secretions, which increased with every cough, splashed out and landed on her black clothes and the pavement. But Maria didn't even have the chance to wipe her mouth.

The mighty hand of fate was leading Maria to a destination that was unknown to her. Driven by a conflict of contradictory feelings, Maria gained speed with every passing moment.

Worry, fear of a tragic event, feeling of liberation and hope.

Ninth scene

The bullring was full of spectators. Most of them were tourists from all over the world.

As there were not enough chairs, some people were standing up and waiting impatiently for the fight.

Some spectators didn't care whether the bull or the Matador would be killed. The desired things were blood and death; perhaps that blood could wash away their endless and sometimes sick expectations and desires and also the stigma of this alienation from their true selves.

Something had to break down, dissolve, and disappear to free these bloodthirsty people.

But was it the death of the Matador or the wild bull in the arena?

Tenth scene

As the duel approached, the boy reached the top of the hedge, where he could clearly observe Matador's unequal fight with the speechless bull.

A few minutes later, the Matador entered the arena to loud applause from the crowd, and an unusual cheer rang out upon his arrival.

After Carlos had performed the usual bullfighting ceremonies, he waited for the bull to be released. This wait did not last long, and the bull entered the arena when the entrance gate opened.

When the bull entered the arena, the second part of the contract of this unequal and unnecessary but bloody conflict was fulfilled, and the cheers and joy of the spectators rose to the heavens and reached their climax.

The Matador momentarily looked into the bull's eyes and saw him full of anger. Without hesitation, the bull dragged his left hoof across the ground several times and suddenly attacked the Matador.

The Matador raised his red velvet cloth to his left side with both hands and skillfully deflected the bull.

Before the bull realized his mistake, he crashed into the wooden wall. At the same time, the boy fell onto the field a few steps away from the bull due to the violent vibrations of the wall.

The bull's mouth was foaming with rage, and the boy was frozen with fear.

The bull made his decision with a furious look and rushed toward the child, who was less than ten meters away.

The Matador, recognizing the bull's intention and target, ran to the bull with a loud cry and threw the short spear he held toward the crazy animal to draw the bull's attention.

The bull charged at the Matador, who was also approaching at great speed. Only at the last moment, before the young man could maneuver, did he slam his horn into the Matador's side, tearing them apart.

A sharp pain ran through the Matador's whole being, but when he recognized the bull's intention to attack again, he stood up with all his strength and barely managed to keep himself from falling to the ground again.

The bull charged at Carlos again, and he knew that he would get the last blow from the mad bull this time.

Amid this fight, Carlos gradually lost the hatred and hostility he had always felt toward this animal. Therefore, he did not raise his red cloth to deceive and distract the bull. He didn't even make the slightest move.

The wild beast dealt another terrible blow to his capitulating opponent, turned around on the other side of the field, and charged again. The bull quickly approached its prey, but in Carlos' eyes, time had changed its own nature.

He suddenly had a different consciousness, and his understanding of dimension, time, and events had reached an unprecedented level. He no longer saw the bull as an enemy. This animal even had a different color.

The young man could see certain rays of light around him. But gradually, the place became a deep curve, and this curve became a tunnel that drew him in.

From a few meters above, Carlos suddenly saw his blood-covered body lying on the ground with a glowing arrow with a golden tip moving above it.

On the other side of the field, the Matador saw the boy standing motionless in shock and the wild bull charging towards him.

For a moment, Matador saw his childhood again in the boy and felt a deep friendship and bond with him. But then another current caught his attention. At the entrance to a tunnel, he saw an older man in a matador's costume with his hat tucked under his arm, waiting for the young Matador's decision with piercing black eyes.

With his new and comprehensive understanding, Matador realized that the man standing in the tunnel was the same older man he had seen in his dream last night, and he took him for his father. Then he looked at the child again and realized with Frost that the best way to help him was to let fate take its course.

He now had a new and precise understanding of death utterly different from his previous one.

Eleventh scene (last scene)

Maria was no longer walking; she was running. Suddenly, she found herself standing next to the wooden wall of the bullring. She looked through the hole into the arena and saw the bloody body of the Matador lying on the ground and the bull running towards a boy.

From the angle she was standing, the woman could only see the back of the child's head and tried to pull herself to the top of the hedge. But the coughing and the renewed bleeding that followed made this impossible.

After a few minutes, Maria stood again and peered helplessly through one of the holes and, this time, could see the boy's left cheek and make sure that he was her lifeblood and the only reason for her survival.

A second later, the bull hurled the child into the sky with a mighty charge.

When Maria saw this, she fell first onto her stomach with violent convulsions, then onto her knees. Her body hit the ground, and she bled profusely.

A few minutes later, some curious people gathered around the blood-covered, black-clad body.

The people who came that day wanted to see the face of death. A face that everyone only wanted to see in others and thought impossible for themselves.

"Was it not the case that, in their opinion, death was only the lifeless, miserable corpse they were seeing before them and nothing else!"

The crowd gradually left the arena and dispersed into the surrounding streets and alleyways.

The sun, in unique harmony with the clouds in the western corner of the sky, had drawn a unique painting from red to yellow to gray until to black, and amazingly, this original design changed from moment to moment.

After this feat, the sun picked up the tiniest particles of its light from all corners of this part of the earth.

A few moments later, above the arena, Eros placed three glowing arrows with golden tips in his quiver.

He had completed his mission successfully and was watching, disinterested, how the arena crowd exploded excitedly.

This time, the crowd had reached the maximum level of joy, excitement, and fun that was possible Because, in addition to the Matador and the bull, a boy in the arena and a woman outside the arena had also died.

Then Eros nodded and flew away indifferently, disappearing a moment later into a corner of the sky.

In the center of the spinning tunnel, invisible to the people on earth, a radiant older man in a matador costume with a matador hat under his arm was moving in front of three people: a young and brave matador, a smiling and active boy, and a cheerful and beautiful woman.

[1] In Greek mythology, Eros is the son of Aphrodite and is regarded as the god of love who creates love with winged arrows.

[2] Spiritual complex